


Anomalies

by QWERTYouAndMe



Series: The Anomalies Saga [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock - Fandom
Genre: CarrierVerse, Established Relationship, Fluff, If you only read one work by me, M/M, Mpreg
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-24
Updated: 2015-12-28
Packaged: 2018-04-11 01:37:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 7,921
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4416119
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QWERTYouAndMe/pseuds/QWERTYouAndMe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock had no idea what time it was, what day it was, or what he was doing.<br/>However, he'd get the hang of it soon enough...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Sleep

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys! Hope you enjoy this fic! Do feel free to tell me what you think and give me some constructive criticism in the comments! Enjoy!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Sherlock Holmes is sleepy and has morning sickness (but he doesn't know that yet)

Sherlock had no idea what time it was, what day it was, or what he was doing. He sat up slowly, rubbing his hands over his face. How long he'd been asleep, he couldn't tell, but it wasn't dark, which was always a good thing. But it _was_ cold: the window was open and a breeze drifted in. The brunette sneezed, startling himself. A small gasp slipped through his lips. Laughter erupted from across the room. Sherlock looked at John with narrowed eyes. "Hello, sleeping beauty," said John through final gasps of laughter. Sherlock stood up, stretching and yawning. "Hello" he walked over to his partner and kissed him on the cheek. "What time is it?" He questioned, leaning on John's chair. The other man put down the book he was reading and looked at his watch. "Half-past five" Sherlock yawned again, "You're exhausted." John stated. They'd just gotten off a case, and, as far as John knew, Sherlock hadn't slept or had a decent meal in three days. "Come on. Eat, then sleep." Sherlock nodded sleepily. They ate an early dinner together, chatting about the case. John argued that it was one of the hardest they'd faced in a long time, but, of course, Sherlock said he found it easy. He didn't. Once they'd both finished, they sat in silence for a long while. John broke the quiet spell. "Let's get you to sleep, then. You... You... You you."

It was twenty-to seven the next day when Sherlock woke up with John beside him. When he sat up, all the blood rushed to his head. His vision went cloudy and pain pounded at his temples. He let out a breath he didn't realise he was holding and lay back down. John threw an arm over his lover, scooching closer. "You ok?" He asked without opening his eyes. Sherlock sighed.  
"Not really." John snapped awake.  
"What's wrong?"  
"Nothing serious: bit of a headache, slightly nauseous. I'll have just caught a cold, you know what it's like on the tube and such. I'll be okay; don't worry about it." Sherlock climbed out of bed and got himself a glass of water, then went back to sleep.

He had no idea what he was getting himself into.


	2. Yes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 'We all make mistakes, and, trust me, I know. I know that was terrifying, and I'm so proud of you for it. This is no mistake. This is fate.'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys. Thanks for sticking around! sorry for the late upload: I totally forgot. Enjoy!

~~_**I may have cried writing this**_ ~~

His entire body heaved and he lurched foreward. Sherlock sighed. His hands shook and he was shivering, yet it felt like he was on fire. "Are you okay now, love?" John's voice beside him made him jump. He glared at his boyfriend through watery eyes, but nodded lightly. John stood up, offering Sherlock his hand. The younger man took it gratefully, thankful for the help. If John wasnt there beside him, he'd probably fall over.

They walked slowly back into their bedroom and John sat down on the edge of the bed. Sherlock sat next to him, still shivering slightly. They sat in blissful silence for a long moment, Sherlock leaning on John's shoulder. It was him who broke the silence. "Do you remember what happened after we went out with Lestrade that night, after we solved that God-awful case about the empty bottles?"

John considered Sherlock's question for a minute. "Oh...? _Oh._ " He looked at the brunet doubtfully, "No, surely not. You couldnt be, you were on the pill."

"Yes, John, but it was that new one, remember? The one that's statistically proven not to work as well." Sherlock shifted nervously. He didnt know quite how, or when, but recently, he'd become a huge overthinker of little problems. Beside him, John swallowed hard.

"You couldn't be..." _But he could be,_ said his subconsious mind, "I mean, its not like you see a lot of Carriers with legitimate Carrierborns these days, anyway."

"That's because there's nothing left to say about them. Nothing new; nothing noteworthy. Its all been done. They dont feel relavant anymore." Sherlock laid back down, closing his eyes. John felt hopeless and defeated. He leaned back into the mattress and sighed. He refused to believe that he could've gotten his boyfriend... 

If it was possible for a mind to stutter, that's what John's did in that very moment,

_...Pregnant._

* * *

"I'm going out, do we need anything?" Sherlock said as he pulled on his coat. John looked up from the book he was reading, mildly surprised. He thought for a second, before smiling and saying "Punnet of strawberries would be nice." Sherlock nodded and hurried down the stairs. "Love you!" John shouted after him. No response. 

Sherlock had ticked off every item on the list he'd made (mentally) except one. He felt strange just thinking about it. He'd voiced his thoughts to John about it, and he'd seemed pretty doubtful. But Sherlock felt a little uneasy about the whole thing. He hated not knowing what was going on, especially within his own body.

He wasn't saying he _was_ pregnant, just eliminating the possibility.

It was just then that he forced himself too look around for the first time. Nobody else in a few metere radius. Once again, he eyed the pregnancy tests on the wall.

Pregnancy tests aren't such serious things. They cant be. Hundereds of women and carriers take them every week. They are not serious or scary things, Sherlock told himself. He felt weak and strange. _No, you're not a teenager anymore, Sherlock. You are an independant man with complex biology and you arent scared of what is essentially fate-sealing plastic._

He bought the pregnancy test.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all the support on this already guys! TOFW, OUT! Peace.


	3. Dashes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two lines. Two lines.  
> Tears hit him with the force of a falling tree.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Because of yesterday's late upload I decided to treat you all to another chapter! Enjoy lovelies!

Five minutes had never seemed longer in his life.

Sherlock had always found waiting agonising. And this time especially, he was getting extremely impatient. John could see it in his icy blue eyes as he paced the living room. Up and down; up and dowm; up and down. "Are you going to stop that, any time soon?" Sherlock stood stock still and looked at him, dazed from being pulled from his racing thoughts. The timer on his watch buzzed; he stopped it quickly. "Yes." he said "Right now, as a matter of fact."

Sherlock locked the bathroom door behind him, leaning against it to lend himself balance. He tried to steady his hands and slow his breathing. He counted to three in his head each time he inhaled, exhaled. Inhale, exhale. Inhale, exhale. _This is not the end of the world._ The room spun. He took one last big breath in and picked up the test.

Two lines.

//

Two lines.

_Pregnant._

Tears hit his eyes with the force of a falling tree. _No, no. This can't be happening. No._ Sherlock dropped the test into the bin and burried his face in his hands, letting a noise one could only describe as a mewl escape his lips. "Sherlock?" John's voice breached softly through the door, "Sherlock, are you okay?" The brunet opened the door and looked at his lover through teary eyes. The look of concern that settled onto John's face at that moment was enough to break Sherlock's heart in two. He'd seen that look before. When he was standing on the roof, when he was aiming a gun at the explosive coat, yesterday morning, in fact. If it hurt to see it then, this was torture. He fell foreward into John's arms and burried his face in John's shoulder.

 

He had no idea how long he stayed there, crying in his lover's arms. He had to tell him. Sherlock struggled to compose himself as he pulled away from the warmth and the love and the certainty and _John_. "Whats wrong, Sherlock? Come on," John took both of Sherlock's hands in his own. "tell me." Sherlock sighed shakily, his hands trembling. John looked him over. "Yesterday. This is about yesterday, isnt it?" Sherlock nodded.

"John," he closed his eyes "I was right."


	4. Real and Terrified

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is real. It's real and it's scaring me. I'm terrified. I can't do this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! I've been itching to write for an age, so I might start a couple more things (One from request, one from my stupid brain because 'It runs in the family' - My friend on carrier anatomy. Frikkin' Mystrade... Also, we cater to all (mostly all, by all, we mean a lot of) ships here at TheOriginalFanfictionWriters, so expect some of the impossible, the amazing, and the outright deadly in the near future ;) Technically i can post this at 1am because it is friday Enjoy lovelies xxx

"Are you sure you're ready for this?" John said quietly. Sherlock shook his head microscopically. His partner didn't notice. "We can always reschedule if you don't feel up to it." The sandy-blonde haired man threw out the lifeboat one last time. Sherlock was glad that his boyfriend stuck out for him so, but declined nonetheless. He looked at a young lady and her fiance across the room. John saw his lover's thoughts racing and felt a smirk creep onto his face. "Go on then, genius." Sherlock smiled.

"They've been engaged for two years, and he's getting restless. He's seeing someone on the side, but not for sex... they're cuddle-buddies. He's loyal to her, but something drives him out of the house on occasion. She insists that they wait longer until they get married. He proposed in Paris, but she has bad memories linked to it. Awful ones in fact, traumatising ones. Her sister is in hospital, something in her lungs, her breathing-has been for some time now. He's exasperated with it. They had an argument in the car on the waty here, but then he stopped and bought her coffee. She's-hmm-five months pregnant with-" the brunet paused briefly "a boy. She wanted a girl, but he's extatic to have a son on the way. It's not his. She has no idea whose, though. As for their jobs, he's a full time builder- he hardly ever has days off and is slightly annoyed that today, his only free time with her, they're sat in a doctor's office; she's a call-center worker by day, but has a... 'dancing' job in a club downtown at the weekends. She's going to keep it up until he finds out."

"Incredible. How did you get all of that from just looking at them?" John said, slightly awstruck. Sherlock winked at him.

"I'll tell you when we get back to the flat, if you really want to know." he said with a slight smile.

"I'm always want to know your thought process when you do that, love."

A simple, tall woman with dark skin and shiny black hair piled in a slick bun atop her head emerged from one of the rooms. She swung off the doorframe with one arm and asked thin air. "Mr Holmes?"

* * *

"That was easy." John stated as he shut the back door of the taxi. Sherlock scoffed quietly. "What?"

"That was hardly what I'd call _easy_ , John, but then, you werent the one getting your stomach kneaded."

"That's also true." They sat in a sweet, scared silence for all of five minutes. That was when a whimper escaped Sherlock's lips. John started. He turned to look at his lover, who had his face buried in his hands. "Sherlock? Sherlock, are you alright?" Sherlock straightened up a little. "It's just hit me that this is all real. This is real. It's real and it's scaring me. I'm terrified. I can't do this, John." The blonde haired man sighed, pressing a kiss to his lover's cheek

"Sherlock, look. I'm just as scared as you are, about... all of this. I've next to no experience with kids. But we'll get by. You know what this is? It's your funny 6-week hormones punching you in the face. It's okay, Sherlock." John turned Sherlock's head with his fingers and kissed his lips. "You're gonna do great."

* * *

 

 The second they stepped in the door, they were greeted rather enthusiastically by an extremely agravated Mrs Hudson and a very concerned looking Greg Lestrade. "Boys!" Mrs Hudson said in an almost scolding tone, "Have you been having girls over here?" John looked horrified at her statement; it took all Sherlock had not to snicker at his expression.

"Mrs Hudson, Sherlock is my boyfriend, you know this." John said with a splash of annoyance. Mrs Hudson held out a folded piece of paper with a stern look on her face. The leaflet from the pregnancy test. "Sherlock... Shit, Sherlock. We've got a lot of explaining to do." John walked backwards a few paces to Sherlock's side, showing him the paper.

"Mrs Hudson, I can explain. You know what Carriers are, yes?" Sherlock spoke quickly and strongly, but his fingers trembled as he reached out his hand for John's. Their landlady nodded her head. "I am a Carrier-Mycroft's one too, as a matter of fact, Lestrade; use protection-John and I went out one night and got a bit... Tipsy. Now, 6 weeks later, here we are. I'm carrying John's baby. And that's all we know."

* * *

Mycroft greeted the three of them as they entered the dusty confines of 221B. A look of stony concern settled on his face upon seeing his brother with John's hand resting lightly on his stomach. "Where have you been?" The British Government said stonily. 

"At the doctor's. Why?" John answered quietly.

"Sherlock, I've been trying to call you for the past hour and a half. You wouldn't pick up your phone, wouldn't read my texts, I was getting worried." Greg crossed to his lover's side, taking his hand. He explained quietly what was going on-and for once, Mycroft Holmes was speechless.

"So, you're six weeks pregnant. With John Watson's baby."

"Precicely that." Sherlock nodded.

"Mummy will not be pleased. She wants us to come to dinner next week."

"Why?"

"Oh, Sherlock, you know what she's like. It'll be because of some holiday only celibrated in North-Western Shri Lanka. I'll tell her to expect four." Mycroft fished his phone out of his pocket and started to compose a text. Sherlock sat down. When his brother looked up at him, Sherlock grinned slightly. "What?"

"You're going to have to put up with a child. _A child._ Uncle Mycroft." Mycroft rolled his eyes, going to leave.

"You are rediculous."

"And you're on your interval*. Goodbye, Mycroft."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Interval- Noun.: Basically the word for Carrier-Period. Dickbleed sounded too much like an insult, we decided.  
> Yay for me not feeling like an unproductive mess! Yay for me actually putting the summary in here! Hope you enjoyed!  
> -TOFW OUT!


	5. Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John... There's four in there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yes i uploaded late.  
> Shut up.

_9 weeks in..._

 It was uncomfortable for Sherlock waiting on his own in the doctor's office, showing slightly. He had convinced himself he wasn't showing at all: sometimes, lying to yourself works best. He wished John wasn't at work. Sherlock had thought of trying to persuade Greg to come with him, but he decided against it rather fast. He didn't want to do it, he'd wanted to pull the date back a few days, but John wouldn't let him. Sherlock supposed it was for the best.

 

The jelly felt cold on his bare skin: he did his best to keep quiet about it. The scanning device felt rather alien in itself, but Sherlock thought nothing of it. he stared intently at the screen. Heads, hands, feet, fingers; limbs floated around like wild branches. Sherlock's heart sank. W _hat the hell is happening?_ The doctor moved the scanner around. She made out 4 very distinct shapes. Four. Sherlock felt like he was going to explode. No, no, please, not  _four._ He called john the second he got outside. John picked up straight away.

"John," Sherlock said quietly "There's four in there."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes this is short.   
> shut up.  
> I'll do something tomorrow.


	6. Lies and Truths.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Mummy Holmes is not pleased and Mycroft almost cries. (Spoiler, Sherlock does)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am too happy rn.   
> THANK YOU GUYS!  
> I'm so proud of this story, I feel like it's my own little Anomaly.  
> I want to see some talk about this on my Tumblr. Bunny-in-a-flower-crown :)  
> You got Questions? I got Answers! Ask me shit on Tumblr, Yo!  
> I love you all guys, really, I do.   
> Thank you so much.   
> Enjoy the long chapter, Lovelies! XXXXX Mwah!

_**11 weeks in**_   


John's gentle touch roused Sherlock from a sleep he never meant to have. "Hey. I bought you some water." Sherlock glared at his boyfriend through his lashes.   


"Nothing to wake me up for, was it?" John rolled his eyes.  


"You looked ridiculous. Besides, we're nearly there."  


"I always look ridiculous like this."  


"No you don't, you look beautiful, with your pale skin and your perfect lips and your tallness an-"  


"And your cheekbones and all the rest of it, blah blah blah. I've heard it all before, babes. I'm talking about-" Sherlock looked down at his swollen stomach "it-" He quickly corrected himself "Them." John laid a reassuring hand on Sherlock's small, yet ever-growing bump.   


"You look fine. You look like my boyfriend" They sat in comfortable silence for a while, until Sherlock said,  


"You know, if you'd let me have sugar once in a while, I might not fall asleep as much." John just rolled his eyes  


* * *

It was Mycroft who opened the door. Everyone exchanged greetings; coats were taken; hugs and kisses were shared. Sherlock's father glanced dissaprovingly at John, just like he always did.  


Once they'd all sat down at the table and started eating, the conversation started. At first it was just small talk; the weather, the news, 'How's the surgery doing?', 'Is Molly okay?'. The last one made John flinch. The Holmes parents had never been too supportive of their sons' Carrier statuses. Mummy Holmes had always ignored it, hoping one day for someone-like Molly-to bear her two perfect grandchildren. What a shock she'd get. What a shock-  


"You've put on weight, Sherlock. Heaps and heaps. What _have_ you been doing?"   


Mycroft glanced at his brother from accross the table and chuckled. John begged silently that his boyfriend wouldnt say something truly _Sherlockian_ , like 'having sex with John Watson'.

* * *

 He didn't. What he did come out with was poetic and lovely and truly even _Mycroftian._  


_"They_ do not have faces to see,   
Or put inside a frame.   
 They do not have soft cheeks to kiss,   
They don't yet have their names.   
You can't yet hold their tiny hands,   
Nor whisper in their ears.   
It's still too soon to sing a song,   
Or cuddle them so near.   
But all will change come some time in winter,   
That’s when they say I'm due.   
They're your new grandsons or grandaughters;   
I can't wait till they meet you.   
All I ask between now and then   
Is your patience while they grow.   
I promise they'll be worth the wait,   
Because of all the love we'll know.   
So what I have to give you now,   
Is a wish to you from me.   
I cannot wait for them to be a part   
Of this wonderful family."  


* * *

Never, in all of his life, did John Watson think he'd see a whole room burst into such fits of conflicting emotion at once. Greg and Mycroft started clapping, smiling. A look of horror crept onto the faces of the Holmes parents. Then they errupted into questions.   


Now they were on the train journey home, and Sherlock was crying _._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yayy for feels! I'm gonna try post as much as I can in the next few days, so stay tuned!


	7. Lefty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Look at that. Little Leftie.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Imma say straight off the bat that I'm sorry if this isn't my best; I'm kinda sick rn. But, the show must go on!   
> Enjoy, Lovelies! XXXXX

"You're scared, John."

"I'm not."

"You are."

John rolled his eyes, squeezing Sherlock's hand. He was right, of course. He always was. John wondered if their kids would inherit his smartassery. He kind of hoped they would; at least one of them. He wanted genious children-

"Mr Holmes?"

* * *

"You can hold his hand, if you'd like." Dr Matana was nicer than John's first impression of her had allowed him to think. Sherlock looked up at his lover, offering his long, slender fingers. The other man held his hand tightly. 

A whisper of smoke showed him the first vision of his child. Petite and simple looking; a blury, black and white image of the rest of their lives. And this was only a quarter of it. The doctor moved the scanner around: Four gorgeous, perfect shapes; twitching and moving. _No, they're not just shapes. They're our children._ John preyed that he wouldn't start crying.

"Look at that," Sherlock pointed out to his teary-eyed lover, "Little leftie." Sure enough, one of their babies was sucking their left thumb. John smiled, stuttering on his words. He felt hot tears of happiness spill down his cheeks. "Beautiful." John stated. It was all he could choke out before his throat closed up and he could just smile.

* * *

_*They would have beautiful children.*_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks guys x.  
> Letters game! Name time!  
> 1) Q*****N   
> 2) M******D  
> 3) J***E-L*E  
> 4) L***I  
> Enjoy the suspense... hehe no.  
> xx
> 
> A Bunny.   
>  /) /)  
>  ( ^.^ )  
> C(") (")


	8. Oh no.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oh no, you didn't just...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! How ya been? So it's been a little-this isnt fooling anybody is it; it's been a really long time. Lets just...do this.  
> IF YOU GET WHERE THATS FROM I AM BOTH SO HAPPY AND SO SORRY.  
> Sorry for the frikkin two day delay on this. Friday was kinda a big day for me but hey, ploddin on. More on that later.  
> Enjoy, Lovelies, this one's a feeler. xx

_***20 weeks in*** _

* * *

 

For once in their lives, the beginning of the day was almost  _normal:_ as usual, John had woken up first-he basically always did these days-and made two cups of tea. Sherlock came padding out into the kitchen in his dressing gown and wrapped his arms around John's middle. The warm, slight rays of sun filtered in through the blinds, making all the dust in the air visible. It all seemed rather like a dream; all in pastel colours and full of vivid imaginary things. If he didn't know any better, John might even say it was _pretty_. As usual, they sat in basic, blissful silence for about an hour. But once they started talking-once they were both dressed and fully awake and actually _alive-_ things turned the complete opposite of usual.

"So, I think green for their nursery? It's a nice, gender neutral colour. Unless we have all boys or all girls, then pink or blue would be the obvious choice." John knew he was babbling. He didn't care, because Sherlock was almost grinning. He didn't smile a lot these days. The brunet nodded, the smirk still on his lips.

"We need to go shopping at some point, nursery shopping. I'm sure we could get some of it online, like the cots and the bigger things. I just think it would be nice to go out, make a day out of it. What do you th-" He stopped. John looked worried. The smirk on Sherlock's lips grew into a full-blown smile.

"What?" John knelt by his boyfriend's side, unsure of what to do. Sherlock held out his hand and lached onto John's fingers. He guided John's hand to his bump and held it there. A flutter of movement surged beneath his skin. John smiled, but it wasn't just a smile. It was a John Watson smile. It started kind of small and timid, as if it didn't know if it should really be there. But then it got wider; bigger, more sure of itself. And then all of a sudden, **bam**. There it was. Gigantic and full of emotion and loving and amzing. Just like John Watson (But without the embarassing facial hair about two thirds of the way through).

And suddenly the rain was hammering on the window about as harshly and as fast as John's heart was beating at that point.

A few minutes later, another little flutter, but this time in a completely different place. Down and to the right a bit. Another one of their little sons or daughters exploring their surroundings for the first time. Sherlock found it so sweet he almost cried. _Fucking hormones,_ he mentally cursed himself, but for hours after, he couldn't stop smiling.

* * *

"Ooh ooh?" came an inquisitive noise from behind the door of 221b. Mrs Hudson let herself in when she got no answer. Sherlock was asleep, head on John's lap. She smiled a bit, before turning her attention to John and saying "Mycroft is downstairs. I'll tell him to come up, shall I?" John nodded and smiled at her, then she disappeared. 

Mycroft was quiet as he came up the stairs. "Hi," John half-whispered. 

"Hello, I do hope we're not intruding. Just dropped in to give you a little present" Mycroft produced a small package from behind his back, spotted with fat raindrops, neatly wrapped in pink tissue paper with a gold bow stuck on top.

"Thank you. You said 'we'; is Greg here too?" John inquired. Mycroft smiled, shook his head minutely and winked at John, the way Sherlock had when they'd first met. Then he left, without so much as a goodbye.

It was safe to say that John was extremely confused.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yaay! #FORESHADOWING!!!!!!!!1!!!!!!!!11!!!!!!!!!!!!!!111  
> I really enjoyed writing this. x Comments and Kudos are always appreciated! I've turned anon comments on, so that should sort some stuff out with anons and ppl who dont have accounts XD  
> Regarding Friday, it was a really hard day in one of my oldest fandoms, and i had to be there for people. So sahd. :,(


	9. Full of Surprises

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A few days full of surprises, and yet it's all the same.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! So, Yeah its late... I get sidetracked easy.   
> See, i wrote a parody of a song for an entirely different fandom before I finished this chapter.  
> Enjoy, Lovelies xxxxx sorry its so shory, itll be a long one next week.

The feeling of the scanning machine no longer felt so alien. The jelly no longer felt so cold. Shelock was almost proud of himself. Damn it, he _was_. He had right to be; he was carrying four goddamn kids. Sure, it wasn't always an easy road; John often had to tell him that he was doing a great job, when he almost broke down in tears of the like. That was something else he was proud of: He hadn't broken yet.

* * *

"So, are you ready to find out the genders?" Dr Matana smiled at the boys as they entered the room and sat down. Sherlock looked at John, who nodded once. 

"Yes." Sherlock said with a long exhale. His hands were shaky. 

Sherlock promised himself he wouldn't look untilhe was  sure the result was right. John held his hand and waited. He squeezed once; their signal that Sherlock could look again.

And then there was their first. Top right, a girl. Smaller than the rest of them.

Their second, top left, another girl. Sucking her right thumb.

Bottom left, a boy. he seemed bigger than his sisters, curling over their bodies with a protective air.

Last one. Bottom right. Another girl. "Theres our Leftie," Sherlock heard John say quietly. The brunet squeezed his boyfriend's hand lightly.

Three girls and a boy. Hot Damn.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> side note, Dr Matana was not meant to be a kinda-pun. It was an accident.


	10. Shopping, Names & Things Unsaid

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Sorry for the lateness... OOps!  
> Enjoy lovelies xxxxx

_***30 Weeks*** _

Sherlock simply couldn't stand to go out. At lest, not for very long. John had eagerly suggested going baby shopping, but, since he ruled the world these days, the whole online idea just stuck. They snuggled together on the couch, a fluffy blanket Greg had bought them when he'd found out about Sherlock's pregnancy wrapped around them, with John's laptop resting between them. Sherlock cooed over tiny booties and nappies with bunnies on them, and John-being John-would add the items to their virtual trolley in bulk. By the time they'd chosen four little cots and four little mobiles; four little blankets and four absoloutley adorable little moses baskets, they were only half done.

"Look, Sherlock! Look at this adorable rabbit one-piece!!" Sure, it was pretty cute.

"I'm thinking that one for our little leftie."

"I thought the little tiger stripes?"

"This one wins over tiger stripes."

John sighed and rolled his eyes with a smile, pulling Sherlock closer to him affectionately, and because he was cold.

"We should still get tiger stripes for-" John hesitated, placing his hand over the general area of their daughter in the top-left, "this little drama queen." As if in response, the baby jerked out one of her limbs violently.

Sherlock put on a high voice. "Who you calling drama queen? Ugh!" He smiled and fake-flipped his hair. John laughed, pressing a kiss into his lover's cheek.

"We need to give them names, you know. Soon." John was serious for a moment. Sherlock nodded in agreement. "I was thinking, maybe we could choose two each?"

"Hmm. I put forth Quentin and Marigold." Sherlock smiled, looking down at his bump and placing a hand over the left side. John blinked at him, dumbfounded for a few seconds.

"Lilli and, um... You've already thought about this." Sherlock nodded. "Jami-Lee." The other man finally decided. "Lilli, she's the leftie. Odd one out, as it were- Oh my goodness I am totally changing the subject but look at this bee onesie!"

"You've thought about this too. I can tell."

"...Bees."

* * *

 

Bee Onesies. Two of them.

* * *

_***31** **Weeks***_

It was a chilly morning when people started showing up for the baby shower. John had desperately wanted to surprise Sherlock, and so far, his plan was working. The brunet was getting ready when everyone came in, piling gifts in the living room and hiding behind things. Everyone was there. Greg and Mycroft; Molly, hell, even an extrordinarily resistant Tom.

Everyone jumped out of their hiding places when Sherlock walked into the room, and he jumped so much that he nearly fell over.

Drinks were poured, presents were unwrapped, due dates were discussed.

The pink tissue wrapped package still remained. Sherlock undid the ribbon with gentle hands, and something fell out. It was small, only about the size of an A5 piece of paper, and printed all over in black and white. It fluttered down to the floor and landed face down. Scrawled in very professional looking handwriting on the back was 'First picture. Sixes xx' Slowly, Sherlock bent down and picked up the paper. His eyes lit up, his jaw going slack for a few seconds, before his face morphed into a smile. Mycroft looked at him from across the room, leaning against the wall, a smirk on his face. Sherlock stood up and walked towards his brother. "You're not."

Mycroft pulled another piece of paper out of his back pocket, unfolding it and showing it to his brother. The second picture.

"Twelve weeks."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whee segway! I'll get round to that soon... Ish.   
> As Always, Comments and Kudos are always very much appreciated.   
> Thanks guys x


	11. No warning issued.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Then it just hit him. Right there. No warning issued...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! I wrote this out of pure boredom, and because I wanted to make you wait, keep you on your toes. Enjoy, Lovelies xxxxxxx

_***39 Weeks*** _

The days ticked on, faster and faster. Sherlock was fast approaching his due date, and truth be told, he wasn’t ready.

This realisation dawned upon him on the morning of the Sunday of his 39th week. Three weeks to go. They were sat on the couch, Sherlock’s head resting in John’s lap. Then it just hit him. Right there, no warning issued. He wasn’t ready for this. He couldn’t do this. He just couldn’t. Sherlock sat bolt upright (as bolt-upright as someone eight months pregnant, carrying four could manage). John snapped his head round to face his lover. “Love,” He didn’t get the chance to keep speaking; Sherlock heaved a huge sigh and buried his face in his hands. He tried his very best to swallow the tears. No hope. No hope, he though, is exactly what this is. A pair of strong, warm hands, up and down his back; perpetual motion, a soft cooing ‘shhh’. “Love, it’s okay. Calm down. I know, I know. This won’t be good for them. Shhh, now, love. I know. It’s ok, come on now.” After the first sob ripped through his chest, Sherlock lost track of the time; sitting back, explaining to John, the cuddles, laughing at something on the telly, peace, quiet, then the dull and broken lull of sleep. 

* * *

 

_***40 Weeks*** _

_**(~21 weeks~)** _

“Hey, we caught you on a good day: for once, he’s smiling!” Greg said as Sherlock opened the door with a grin on his face. The brunet rolled his eyes and sighed, dripping with sarcasm, one hand on his stomach subconsciously. “Ha ha. Come on up, we have popcorn.” Greg stepped aside and Mycroft entered first. He looked his brother up and down. “I would hug you, brother dear, but it seems we’d only hope to meet in the middle.”

“Yes, that would appear to be so. How are they? Have you been told about the carrier test yet?”

“Ah, yes. Multi, they said.”

“I guess that explains me.” Sherlock laughed inwardly, “Come on, we should head up. John will wonder.” 

* * *

Mycroft swore he had never seen anything so pretty in his life, walking into 221B Baker Street on the chilly afternoon of January 16th. A string of fairy lights dangled from the curtain rail lazily. The blinds were drawn and the main lights were dim. Blankets were laid out on the couch, which was also covered in plush cushions. A large bowl of popcorn sat on the coffee table alongside four glasses.

_Never before had such a beautiful scene turned so ugly so quickly._

Because literally nothing else was on, they watched Titanic, laughing about how it would change if Rose was switched out for a pregnant carrier.

Peace, one may even say tranquillity.

Sherlock’s head rested in John’s lap, his eyes heavy. Then it just hit him. Right there, no warning issued.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> KTHXBYE  
> *Dodges bullets and arrows and flames and screaming people.*  
> As always, comments and kudos are very much appreciated.  
> for people wondering:  
> We get the sibling rivalry/bonding in Runs in The Family. Calm your booty. It's going to be alot longer and more fleshed out. (21 Weeks is also ritf perspective)  
> Much love xx Thanks guys!


	12. No

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> No, no, no. You can't be here yet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Sorry this is late; i was away. Better late than never though, eh? This was supposed to be short and sweet but it ended out about 1.5k words... Oops! Still sweet though, I hope. Enjoy lovelies. XXX

_***40 Weeks*** _

“Shit!” He breathed, his eyes almost watering. No, no. They can’t be here now. Come on, not now. Sherlock thought, his thoughts racing.

“What’s wrong, Babe?” John looked down at his lover, his face full of concern. Sherlock sat up, puffing out air from his cheeks, both hands on his stomach. He shook his head. John rushed the extra few inches to Sherlock’s side. One hand rested between his shoulder blades, the other at the small of his back. John’s fingers worked in small tight circles over his boyfriend’s tense muscles. “Babe,” he said again slowly, “What’s wrong?”

“I think-” Sherlock’s breath caught in his throat. His voice jumped and shook like a frightened animal “I think they’re-” He couldn’t finish his sentence. John nodded.

“I know. Okay…” John hesitated

“Hey, what’s going on?” Greg piped up, finally noticing the commotion. John motioned for the other two to come closer.

“They’ve decided to make their entrance early.” Mycroft’s face dropped.

“Should we go to the hospital?”

“No,” Sherlock said, his voice croaky. All heads snapped his way. "they won’t take me. Not carrier-friendly. Besides- I’d… I’d prefer it...here” He forced a smile. His eyes were shattered and watery.

“Babe, you should lay down. It’ll be better for all of you. Just relax, love.” John stroked Sherlock’s hair softly. He started to rearrange the pillows, so Sherlock could half-lay, half-sit down. “Greg, will you fill this with cold water for me?” John said almost smoothly, passing an empty glass to the DI. He nodded slightly, moving swiftly to the kitchen. “Could you get the blue denim bag from the nursery?” Sherlock looked at his brother. Mycroft thought for a second, nodded, then left. Greg came back in and set the glass on the table. John sat on the edge of the sofa, holding one of Sherlock’s hands between both of his own. John sighed through his nose, his breath shaky. Mycroft came back down with the bag and an armful of towels. “Thought these might be helpful…” He said, gesturing to the towels. Sherlock stood up with a huff and watched with a hand on his stomach as the towels were arranged. He sat back down again as soon as John pulled away. Fire shot up Sherlock’s spine and he almost jerked forward. He squeezed John’s hand tightly, hissing through his teeth. “Oh god.” He snapped his head back, hitting the pillows. His entire body convulsed. And then it was over. Just like that. The aftershocks drained through his body like water through sand. The world went watery at the edges. John’s hand felt hot in his hand. And then, of all things he could do, Mycroft started _singing._ Not full on, straight out _singing_ , per se, but singing nonetheless. His voice shook and was quiet, almost inaudible. But it was there. The song their mother would sing them every night.

_‘Lay in the meadow,_

_Under the willow._

_Just close your eyes, dear._

_Don’t be surprised, dear,_

_If you find yourself home…’(1)_

He stopped, unsure of himself. The room buzzed with electricity. The quiet was deafening afterward. Soft tears rolled down Sherlock’s cheeks. John looked at him “Not good?” He said softly. “Bit not good… yeah.” Sherlock forced a smile. John squeezed his hand and kissed his hot cheek. “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

“You should try sleep, love. It makes the… end a lot easier.”

Sherlock swallowed hard. The end. That’s what this was. The end of it all.

He couldn’t do this.

He was going to die.

* * *

 

_It was about three and a half hours later when his waters broke._

“Aah- J-John!” Sherlock said quietly as the next contraction hit. This one was the worst of all. He gripped his lover’s hand and cursed under his breath. “Shit! Joh-n-“ he swallowed hard, breathing staggered and slow. Sherlock rested a hand on his chest and attempted to slow his breathing. John, beside him, rubbed his shoulders and back lightly.

“Come on now, love. 1-2-3. Come on; 1-2-3. That’s it. Come on babe. In; 1-2-3. Out; 1-2-”

“-Shit!” John stopped speaking and looked Sherlock over. His stomach convulsed and retracted. “John- That’s- Th-That’s my waters g-going.” Sherlock gulped again, audibly so. John held his hand tightly, whispering nothings into thin air. Then they started getting closer together. First 30 minutes, then 25, then 20, 15, 10. They were currently sitting pretty at 7 minutes apart.

And 7cm dilated, it would seem, if John’s calculations were correct. 

* * *

Mycroft was in tears by this point. Sherlock never thought he’d see his brother cry, but then again, he thought he’d never hear Willows in the Meadow again. He made a mental note to sing that at some point. Greg had taken charge of the situation pretty quickly, and they were both now calming down in the spare room.

“Sherlock, hon, you’re going to have to start pushing at the next one, babe.” John said softly, standing up and making a move towards the stairs. “I’m going to talk to your brother.” John was back down in two minutes with the British government and a reluctant DI in tow.

“We wanted to be here. For you.” Greg said quietly as they sat down. Sherlock smiled. His expression faltered.

“Go! Go, now!” John said, kneeling at the end of the couch and holding up the blanket that covered Sherlock’s lower half. “Come on, babe. Keep going, now. There we go.” Then the moment was past and gone and quiet swallowed the room whole.

“Brother mine, I don’t think Mummy’s songs would be quite appropriate at this moment.” Sherlock smiled at Mycroft, who rolled his eyes and offered a sad smile. He held onto Greg’s hand for dear life in that moment, wishing that the tears would go away.

* * *

 

Five minutes is not a long time.

Sherlock found the pushing to be the least painful bit, but maybe that was just because he’d turned perpetually numb with fatigue.

“Come on, again, now. 1-5-10. Good. And again, come on now. 1,2,3,4,5,6,7,8,9,10. Good, good. I’d say another three like that and we’ll have Lilli.”

John stood up and moved over to the edge of the couch yet again. He kissed Sherlock’s cheek and brushed his hair back from his forehead. “You’re doing so well, babe. So, so well. I’m so proud of you. Come on, now, you’re doing so great.” Sherlock couldn’t bring himself to smile. He just squeezed John’s hand and closed his eyes. All his mental energy was on keeping his breathing steady.

_And, there it is_ , he thought as the next contraction hit.

The world seared away and Sherlock’s skin burned with fear and pain and anticipation. All noise sounded as if he were underwater. Tears seeped from his eyes and he felt a hand on his shoulder, the thumb rubbing small, slow circles into his skin. John was still counting at what seemed like the other end of the world. Then the pain came back in waves, a perpetual sensation that tracked his every move like a sniper. “Keep pushing, Sherlock. Just one more big push, babe. Can you do that for me?” John’s voice reached his brain enough to register what he was saying. Sherlock nodded. One more, one more, one mo-

_Go!_

He went.

His body convulsed and agony engulfed him like a raging fire. Ten seconds, he counted in his head. “She’s crowning!” Again, ten seconds, each moment passing worse than the last. “Come on, one more! Big one, now. That’s it, Sherlock.”

One,

Two,

Three,

Four,

Five,

Six,

Seven-

He couldn’t keep going. “Come on, babe. One more.”

“I can’t!”

“You can! Come on, one more. One more!”

-Eight,

Nine,

Ten. 

* * *

Sherlock didn’t think he could look at what happened next. There she was. Covered in blood and god knows what else. It was Greg who wiped her down and checked her over. There was a smattering of dark, wispy hair on her head. Her cries sounded like music to Sherlock’s ears. There she was.

Lilli.

Little Lilli, their lefty, their creation.

Their daughter.

Sherlock reached out his arms to hold her. She moved and cried in his arms,  smearing blood on his chest, but he didn’t care. She held his thumb in her tiny fingers and sat still for just a minute. “Lilli,” He said, voice raspy and teary, “Ssh, little girl. It’s me, it’s your daddy. Oh my god… you were inside me for so long.” Sherlock looked up at John, who had tears on his cheeks, but he was still smiling.

“We did this. And we did it together. I mean, this isn’t even all of it. I’m so proud of you, babe.” Sherlock sat up a little. John kissed his lips. “Let’s get the rest of it done, yeah? Spare you the pain of waiting.” The brunet sighed dejectedly. He nodded and let John have Lilli. He wrapped her up in a towely blanket and set her down in her little Moses basket.

_That wasn’t even all of it._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yai!!! Marigold, Jamie-Lee and Quentin will come by later ;)  
> (1) https://youtu.be/2d2zHN2Dicg full video here :P  
> As always, comments and kudos are always very much appreciated (if not encouraged!) XD   
> Thanks guys x


	13. Rachel Wilson

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in that moment, he felt infinately sorry for Jenifer Wilson.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey! I took a well needed break last week, school was killing me. Hope you all had a safe and fun halloween. Enjoy lovelies xxx

The next contraction was the worst yet. Sherlock struggled to breathe. John looked at Sherlock, then at Greg and Mycroft, then back at Sherlock. Greg took the hint and moved over to where John was sitting previously. He shifted anxiously, not sure what to do with his hands. Sherlock reached out an arm reluctantly. Greg took his smooth, warm hand between both of his own cold, rough ones. They reminded Sherlock of stone. The hands of a statue.

Sherlock could feel their little boy’s head starting to stretch him out. He looked at John, who shook his head lightly. No show yet.

Sherlock found himself sobbing hysterically in a matter of minutes. The pain, mixed with the knowledge of his daughter, their daughter, probably asleep and cold and hungry in that little basket of hers, and the emotion of it all, really, that was what got to him. The entire world seemed so vivid in the small moment between searing, terrible pains. He could feel everything so harshly; Quentin’s head and shoulders stretching him, his muscles contracting and moving in order to _forcibly expel this little human he had just created into_ _the world_.

The tiny, faint whimpers of his daughter sounded almost as loud as her cries.

Another contraction.

Another movement. “

I can see him!” John said, almost too loudly. Sherlock wanted to incline inside himself and cry. Well, he was crying anyway, but he wanted to do it with some kind of privacy. He could feel the next contraction building in his lower back, ready to force their son about 3 inches further into the world.

 _ **There** it was_.

Sherlock bore down, feeling the baby move considerably. “Come on, keep going.”

He was going,

Going,

Going,

_Come on, don’t give up now, Sherlock._

Going…..

Gone.

Quentin; boom, smash, done, sorted, happy times, Fred’s your fishmonger.

The silence ripped through the air like a blunt knife.

“J-John?” Sherlock tried to sit up a little, attempting to see what was going on. “Why isn’t he crying?” John looked panicked. His broad shoulders were tight and tense.

“Its-ah- the cord… wrapped around his neck.” Sherlock hauled himself up to see a rather level John Watson with their baby boy’s slightly blue body on one knee. He rubbed his tiny back as vigorously as he dared, turning him over and massaging his chest, clearing his airways, repeat. Nothing. Sherlock felt the tears come back. He willed them away. They couldn’t lose him. Not Quentin. No, not their only son. They couldn’t.

Rub his back, his chest, his airways. Back, chest, airways.

John looked distraught. Just as he was about to give in, admit that they’d lost him, Quentin gave a shuddering breath, his chest heaved, and he gave a piercing wail that made Sherlock want to cry with relief. John let Sherlock hold their son, and he actually _did_ cry then. Again, Quentin, like his sister, squirmed around, smearing hot, sticky blood on his father’s bare chest.

And again, Sherlock _didn’t care_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> !  
>  i have important dates for you guys, too.  
> Wanted; Ch 1- 11/11/15 (perviously known as runs in the family)  
> Impulse; Ch 1- 27/11/15 (sequel to anomalies, set 2 years after these events.)  
> Anomalies; ch 14- 13/11/15  
> Comments and Kudos are always loved xx  
> thanks guys.


	14. And that's where this story ends...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> At 2, their lives changed forever.  
> And that's where this story ends...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Biggie this week! I am very proud to announce today, that this is the last chapter of Anomalies! Cri evertim. Impulse will start next week, then i'm going to skip the 27th of November, and the following Tuesday, as it's my birthday and i have plans. Uploads will return to normal on December 4th, with chapter two of Impulse, then chapter 3 (i think) Of Wanted the following Tuesday. Thanks so much for your support on this story, it means so much to me. I hope you'll all stick around for Impulse, too. It's a thriller! Enjoy Lovelies XxX

He was considerably more numb to the contractions now, Sherlock noted as the next one hit. It wasn’t half as bad as the first one had been. He relaxed a little, releasing a breath he didn’t realise he was holding. Mycroft was slowly rocking Lilli in her basket, soothing her to sleep. Sherlock’s heart softened. She was probably hungry, the poor thing. He jumped as the next contraction hit, not expecting it.

Push, move, wait. Keep going.

Sherlock was exhausted and felt well-worn and frail. As he registered the ache in his arms, he felt his entirety start to burn. Every movement he made sent sparks of pure fire through his body. 

* * *

 

Jaymi-Lee slipped out in a fraction of the time it had taken her brother. She was tiny: her small body fit into John's hands easily. When Sherlock held her, she didn’t move or cry or squirm. She just looked at Sherlock with her big blue eyes. “Three down, one to go. I’m so proud of you, Sherlock.” John said, a teary quirk in his voice. Sherlock smiled. “Look at how small you are, hon! That’s just Marigold in there, now. Just one more to go. And then that’s it. Can you do that for me?” Sherlock nodded, He could do this. Just one more.

* * *

 

_Push!_

He did.

Marigold was crying in less than 20 minutes. Sherlock delivered the afterbirth relatively quickly afterwards and almost collapsed. He was _so tired_. He held out his arms as John carried Lilli over. She was awake, looking very disgruntled. “Are you going to feed her? I know we talked about it, but we never came to an answer.” Sherlock hesitated.

“Yeah, I’ll feed them." He decided. John rested Lilli in his lover’s arms and she latched on almost instantly. John sat on the edge again, Lilli’s basket on his knee. When she finally gave off, Sherlock lowered her gently back into the Moses’ basket and kissed her forehead. 

* * *

 

By the time all four of them were fed and asleep, and Greg and Mycroft had left, it was three o’clock the next morning. Sherlock wiped himself down with a towel, promising himself he’d shower when he woke up. Sleep was the only thing on his mind. He drank some water and made his way to the bedroom. John came in with a huge smile on his face. He climbed into bed next to his boyfriend. “Sherlock,” John said quietly. The brunet turned around to face the other man, a slight smile on his face. “We did it; _you did it._ Four healthy little babies. _Our_ little babies. I’m so, so proud of you, Sherlock.” John kissed Sherlock’s lips softly. 

* * *

 

Sherlock had no idea what time it was, what day it was, or what he was doing. He sat up slowly, rubbing his hands over his face. How long he'd been asleep, he couldn't tell, but it wasn't dark, which was always a good thing. But it was cold: the window was open and a breeze drifted in. The brunette sneezed, startling himself. A small gasp slipped through his lips. John, from beside him, sniggered. “You sneezed and scared yourself.” He explained. Sherlock smiled and stood up. He promptly sat down again when he realised that his centre of gravity had suddenly changed. Ah, yes. “John, love, go check on them, will you?” “I’ve done it already, hon. They’re fine.” Sherlock smiled and started at a steady walk towards the nursery. He pushed the door open quietly to see Lilli in her bee onesie, awake and looking confused. Sherlock bent down and picked her up, rocking her in his arms. He kissed the shock of dark hair on the top of her head.

_They had beautiful children._

* * *

 

~Sherlock Holmes~

Lilli Elizebeth Martha Watson-Holmes,

Quentin Oliver William Watson-Holmes,

Jaymi-Lee Madison Irene Watson Holmes,

Marigold Emiline Molly Watson-Holmes.

~John Watson~ 

* * *

 

John still found it funny that all of their children had 11 syllable names. He wished he could say it was accidental; they’d actually played with Lilli’s middle names a lot before they got it right.

They got registered at three weeks.

Lilli said her first word (Papa, calling for John) at 9 months.

Jaymi said hers at 10 months (Birdy!)

Quentin, 10 months; Dada. Sherlock was proud to have won such a small victory.

Marigold said hers on their first birthday; Light.

At a year and 11 months, Lilli made a tiny deduction. Sherlock was extremely happy and surprised.

At 2, their lives changed forever.

> **_And that’s where this story ends…_ **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Where one story ends, another will begin.  
> Comments and Kudos are always appreciated, guys!   
> Thanks so so much!  
> Don't forget to come back next week for the first chapter of Impulseon a new story! And read Wanted whilst youre at it, why not!?  
> Thank you so much guys. <3


	15. Chapter 15

 

 

 

_Fuck your happy family, Sherlock Holmes._

_You have happiness and laughs and love._

_We don't have that, Sherlock. Didn't you know?_

_All we have is death, and pain, and suffering_

_because of this fucking kid._

_I hate families like yours._

_You are why we started, The Resistance, you know._

_You are why we found you._

_Sherlock Holmes,_

_Fuck your happy family._

_-JM_

 

 


End file.
